


Metalevels Generation 1

by maximumneptune



Series: Metalevels [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: 9/11, AU, Alternate Universe, Angst, Disasters, F/F, F/M, Historical Event, Humor, M/M, Metahumans, Multi, Original Story - Freeform, Prologue, Rewritten History, Sci fi slice of life, Superpowers, Twin Towers, United States, Vagueness, World trade center, powers, sci fi, unanswered questions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-04
Updated: 2017-11-02
Packaged: 2019-01-09 04:42:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12269127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maximumneptune/pseuds/maximumneptune
Summary: As if other generations didn't have enough to complain about, recent data has shown that anyone born after 1985 has the chance to be born as a metahuman with a seemingly random power. Although those who do have powers are often too secretive or too young to display them, a group of older metahumans has formed to try and do some good in the world. And to try not to die. Several superpowered millenials take the spotlight throughout the story as they live, fight, and save some lives.





	1. Prologue

September 11, 2001

Amidst the rubble, the acrid smoke that filled the air, and the screams of everyone who was trying to escape the devastation, a figure stood alone in the street, a shadow against the smoke.

Officer Phillips watched the silhouette incredulously as he coughed into the crook of his elbow. He drew a breath to shout for whoever it was to get moving.

A grinding noise seemed to overtake all other sounds in the city. Officer Phillips forgot about the person in the street as he turned his eyes toward the tower with bated breath. 

The top of the South Tower was slipping out of the skyline. Glass shattered and walls buckled as the section of the building began to plummet. The screams started again in full force.

Out of the corner of his eye, Officer Phillips saw the person in the street raise their arm towards the sky. 

The top of the tower came to a halt in its descent, prompting sighs of relief and gasps of confusion from the people scattered around. 

"What the hell?" Officer Phillips whispered. A woman ran past him as he began to walk towards the stranger with their arm outstretched, palm towards the wreckage.

It had to be a coincidence, right? The kid--he saw now that he couldn't be any older than fourteen--had nothing to do with the tower's sudden, physics-defying halt.

"Hey!" Officer Phillips said as he got closer. People were still running by, their footsteps pounding on the sidewalk. The boy stayed completely still as bits of debris snowed down and landed in his shoulder-length bleached hair. He was wearing a black sweatshirt and jeans that were covered in soot. His eyes were a dull brown, but they also had a piercing focus that was completely trained on the building.

"I'm not going to be able to hold this forever," he said in a soft voice that surprised Officer Phillips as he got a view of the boy's face. As if to demonstrate his point, his raised arm shook, and a grinding noise emanated from the tower once again. 

"What...what are you doing?" Officer Phillips choked out. The boy glanced at him with his brows furrowed slightly and that steely resolution still in his eyes.

"Buying them time. The firefighters are doing their job, and I'm doing mine. You do yours."

Normally, Officer Phillips wouldn't even consider the possibility that this kid could be holding up a building--who would?!--but in his shock at the sudden reprieve from the catastrophe, his mind accepted the connection between the boy and the no longer falling tower. He nodded at the kid, who nodded back in solidarity, and then sprang into action directing people away from the towers.

When the North Tower succumbed to the burning of its support beams, it fell only a few feet before screeching to a stop.

Hours later, when firefighters had located everyone that they could inside the towers, Officer Phillips called his buddy in the upper ranks of the fire department to tell him that everyone needed to move away from the site as quickly as possible.

News reporters declared a complete evacuation of the World Trade Center, and when the area was finally silent but for the raging fires of the 38th floor, the imminent collapse finally happened. 

A fourteen year old boy stood, his eyes heavy from dust and exhaustion, his arms long past having any feeling whatsoever, and his mind numb from exertion. The policeman approached him once more.

"They're out. They're out."

His vision darkened as if it was waiting for its cue to quit on him. The roaring sound in his head was deafening as his body gave out and he fell into the embrace of the concrete and rubble.


	2. Perspective: Lane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lane Redford meets some new people, who seem like they (kind of) know what they're doing.

"And here we are," Delia said, and pushed open the brown wooden door to the apartment. "Weirdo central."

Lane looked at Delia, who shrugged at her casually and gestured with her head that she should go inside. She took a breath and walked in with Delia close behind, and braced for the familiar feeling of a room full of eyes staring at her.

A couple people glanced up from what they were doing and didn't seem at all surprised at Lane's sudden appearance.

Lane, however, was surprised, both at the lack of a response and the state of the apartment. The place looked like Ron Weasley's house. Every wall was painted a different pale color. Mismatched furniture filled the main living area, and most of it was occupied by people around her age. Nobody looked to have anything to do with anyone else that was present, except for two guys sitting on a blue couch on the left side of the room. One, who had dark hair and looked tired, was sitting up with a laptop on his right, typing with one hand. The other had stripey brown and blonde hair and was laying with his head on the first guy's lap, facing away from Lane. 

There were a few other occupants of the room. A girl with long, curly red hair was curled up in an upholstered brown armchair, writing something in a notebook with an open textbook balanced on the arm of the chair. A man sat on a similar, but green, piece of furniture in the far right corner of the room. He had sharp features, was wearing entirely dark gray clothing, and was slumped over the left arm of the chair so that he could hold his phone while it was charging. 

"Hey," Delia said to nobody in particular. "This is Lane." Everyone looked up now, except for stripey-hair, who seemed not to hear. One-handed-typing stopped typing and tapped the other man on the shoulder. He pulled a pair of earbuds out of his ears and sat up, then swiveled around to face the door. He waved a little and smiled at Lane.

"Hey."

"D'you guys wanna go around and introduce yourselves or something?" Delia asked, closing the door and coming to stand beside Lane.

"Like we're eight years old," Dark-gray said flatly. 

"Man, I wish I was eight," Red-hair said, hefting her textbook and scowling. 

"I don't," One-handed-typing said under his breath, although he was smiling slightly as he did.

"Can you just frickin cooperate for a sec?" Delia asked.

"Never! I'm Jessica," the girl with the textbook said. "I'm a Hydro. Hydrokinetic, I mean. Uh, water. Yeah."

"Eloquent, Jessica," Dark-gray said. Jessica seemed to wilt as she went back to writing.

"Shut up, Chris," the dark haired one said with a pointed glare at the other man, who returned the look. The brief moment of enmity was over as quickly as it had begun. "That's Christopher; he's an Illusionary. I'm Ryan. I'm a Ferrokinetic."

"My name's Chase," Stripey-hair said, and seemed to glance at Ryan before making eye contact with Lane. "I'm a Teleporter."

"Nice to meet you guys," Lane said, trying not to be too aware of how her voice sounded. "I'm a Florakinetic." 

"Still no repeats!" Jessica exclaimed. "Even with the others who aren't here right now, nobody has the same powers."

"How many others are there?" Lane asked.

"It's just David and Sammy," Delia said. She had walked into the kitchen as the others had been talking and dragged two chairs into the living room so she and Lane could sit down. Lane took the offered chair and perched on it awkwardly.

"An Amp and a Meteoro," Jessica offered. Chase slumped over so that his chest was touching his knees, for just a moment, before sitting back up. Jessica quickly corrected herself.

"An Atmo! Sammy's an Atmo."

Lane's brow furrowed in confusion as she tried to understand what just happened, but everyone else had moved on from yet another moment of unspoken communication. 

"We're not exactly the X-Men, here," Jessica said. "We have a team band though!"

"Like, a music group?" Lane clarified. Chase grinned.

"Yeah!" he exclaimed. "Ryan, David, and I are working on kinda getting it going, but the concept's there."

"Where?" Delia asked, jokingly. Ryan gestured vaguely.

"Around here somewhere."

Lane turned to look at Chris as she saw him move out of the corner of her eye. He stood up from his chair and coiled his phone charger around his arm. 

"Not that I don't love group conversations," he said, "but I have to get going. Text me if there's an emergency."

"Uh, wait," Lane said. Chris stopped and looked at her questioningly.

"If you don't mind...what exactly does an Illusionary do?" 

Chris's mouth turned up in a sort of half-smile. 

"Look at your hands," he suggested. Lane raised her hands and recoiled as she saw that several uneven orange lines had appeared on her palms in a grid pattern. 

"Woah!" 

The lines quickly faded to yellow, then changed to green. Lane watched as they cycled through the color spectrum all the way to violet, then disappeared altogether.

"That," Chris said, concluding his demonstration. He walked over to the door, pulled it open, and left. 

Delia clapped her hands and pointed at Lane.

"Okay! So you're probably confused."

"A little."

"Basically, this is our...hub, or whatever. When we're not busy with school, or work, or an emergency, we hang out here and just do whatever. When there's an emergency, like a building is collapsing or something, we have someone get information on the situation and then we dispatch whoever has the best powers for what's going on."

"Chase usually does transport to and from emergencies, since teleporting is a whole lot faster than everything else," Jessica added.

"Alright, I think I get it."

"And you're not obligated to be here at all," Ryan said. "If you have other stuff to be doing, or just don't feel like hanging out with a bunch of pretty much strangers, that's cool."

Lane gave him a wry smile.

"Everyone's a stranger til you get to know them."

"Profound," he replied. He looked down at his computer screen. 

"Crap," he mumbled, then picked up the laptop and handed it to Chase, who took a quick look at the display, closed the lid, and crossed his arms over the slim computer, all while Lane watched in utter confusion. 

"We also try to avoid drama," continued Jessica. "I think the whole time this has been a thing, we've only had one real argument."

"Two," Ryan corrected. Chase made a face.

"That doesn't count!" he exclaimed. Ryan smiled and waved him off. 

"Anyway," he started, as Lane made a mental note to add the arguments to her ever-growing list of things to ask about later, "we mostly get along." 

"'specially you and Chase," Delia said. Jessica snickered. Ryan flipped Delia off with his right hand and accepted Chase's offered hand with his left. 

Lane's phone buzzed. 

"I gotta run," she said. 

"Cool cool," Jessica replied. "Door's always unlocked here."

Lane bid goodbye to the group and left the apartment complex, shaking her head and smiling slightly to herself. She hadn't known what to expect, but now that she'd met everyone, she couldn't just walk away. 

Not with so many unanswered questions.


End file.
